


We've Got All Night

by readwritecoffee



Category: Midnighters - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23718523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readwritecoffee/pseuds/readwritecoffee
Summary: What happens after Rex and Melissa escape Darkling Manor in Touching Darkness...
Relationships: Rex Greene/Melissa Hayes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	We've Got All Night

As they neared his house, she could taste the panic settling in, a metallic sting to her tongue. She couldn’t tell him she felt the same, because she didn’t…not really…after all, no one wanted to turn her into a monster…but, still, the thought of driving home alone, of sneaking into her childhood bedroom, of huddling under her sheets jumping at every sound even though she knew - she _knew_ \- she would hear someone’s thoughts if they were stupid enough to come for her…it was unbearable.

“I could stay,” she said in answer to his unasked question. “I mean…if you want me to.”

A little flash of annoyance, just like before, as she turned this around on him, but at least it was a break in the panic for both of them. “Yeah,” he said, eventually, just as she knew he would. “Yeah, okay.”

She nodded. They made the rest of the drive in silence.

***

In his room, after he ensured his father was still drugged to the gills and wouldn’t bother them for the foreseeable future, they faced their next hurdle. Melissa looked down at her ripped, charred clothing, knowing full-well she wouldn’t be able to sleep with death and decay clinging to her, but also knowing that slipping into clothes regularly worn by Rex was a no-go. Even washed, too much of him still probably clung to the fabric, especially tonight when terror was warring with her heightened awareness of him from their pre-midnight touch

But, apparently she wasn’t the only one who could read minds. He move passed her to a chest of drawers, where he retrieved a package of undershirts, still in the plastic wrapping. “Never worn,” he said, holding the entire package out to her. “Take your pick.”

She smiled gratefully. What she really wanted was a long, hot shower…the kind where she could scrub her skin raw in a futile effort to get the weight of midnight, the weight of _Bixby_ , off her body. But even making the trek to the bathroom down the hall alone was a no-go. There was a part of her, a part she couldn’t fully recognize, that acknowledged she was scared to let him out of her sight.

She took the package and then stared at him expectantly. He looked at her in confusion for a moment before his face turned beet red, eliciting a small smile from her. “Right, sorry,” he said, looking away before she started removing the layers of ruined clothing. She could taste the embarrassment, followed by twinge of lust, followed by the massive guilt. _Predictable_.

She also turned away, hoping he’d use this opportunity to change as well. She wasn’t sure if she could handle feeling this awkward around him for any longer. A few moments later, with her clothing bunched up at her feet, and one of the brand new shirts hanging at just above her knees, she said, “Okay, I’m good.”

He turned around and tried to smile at her. He was in a pair of sweatpants and a worn t-shirt, looking more like the scared 8-year-old she first met than the control freak she knew as her best friend…and maybe something more, her brain chimed in, super unhelpfully.

Before he had a chance to offer her his bed for the night, she shook her head. “Floor’s better,” she said. “Less mind traffic.”

He nodded. He shuffled towards the bed and collapsed into it, but didn’t quite lay down, choosing instead to pull his knees to his chin. She slid down to the floor, mirroring his position as she leaned against his desk.

“We made it, Cowgirl,” he said after a moment. 

She looked up at him and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but was sure it came out as a grimace. She wanted to ask _but for how long_?, but the words got stuck in her throat. Because it wasn’t her that wouldn’t make it, if this all exploded. It wasn’t her, or Dess, or Jess, or Jonathan. It was Rex. Her Rex…that they wanted. That they needed.

Well, too damn bad. She needed him more.

She hesitated for a moment, before pushing herself to her feet again. He tilted his head as he watched her, and she tasted, more than saw the confusion, as she crossed over to him. And then, despite her misgivings about the remnants of his mind and dreams all tangled in his sheets, she sat beside him, not quite touching, letting her legs dangle off the side of his bed as she leaned back against the wall. 

His worries, his concerns, his very identity, that had been swirling through her mind all night rushed through her with increased vigor but she let herself be carried with it, glad, now, to have someone else’s worry to focus on, rather than her own. As the moments passed, with him tense beside her, waiting to give him some indication of what she needed or, at the very least, what she could stand, she was slowly able to reclaim her own mind and release the white-knuckled grip she had of his blanket.

“Can we just sit like this?” She asked, once she was sure she wouldn’t be sick as soon as she opened her mouth. “And talk about something else? Anything else?”

His mind relaxed just a fraction, still frenetic as he tried to process the events of the evening, but slightly less so as he actively tried to calm himself. “Sure, Cowgirl. We’ve got all night.”


End file.
